


It All Comes Back to You

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: To Build a Family in Ineffable Circumstances [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Knotting, M/M, Magic Cock, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Size Kink, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Trans Character, Vaginal Sex, Weird Angel Biology, Wings, aziraphale actively wants it, but only as it applies to omegaverse, thematically anyway, trans aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 10:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18164135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Crowley gets a worrying phone call from Aziraphale, and finds his friend in an unexpected state.





	It All Comes Back to You

**Author's Note:**

> This kind of just...demanded to be written, so I apologize if it's awful, because I rushed it out. It was an interesting experiment in trying to mimic the book's writing style, which makes for (I think) an interesting sex scene. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I liked writing it. 
> 
> As the tags say, there is some borderline dubious consent in this because Aziraphale is in a sort of heat. As he will eventually say, he is completely on board with what happens. Additionally, angelic gender is complicated, and I give it a sort of lazy bypass here. Aziraphale is male-aligned, he's given a vagina. Enough said.
> 
> Title from "Send Me an Angel" by Real Life, as referenced in the fic.

It was a decade or so after The End of All Things, or what would have been The End of All Things, had it not been for an angel, a demon, a witch, a witch-finder, two boys, one girl, and (mostly) an antichrist. Crowley could have given the exact number of years later, if he'd been bothered, but he wasn't particularly, and he'd been busy napping on and off anyway. With the world more or less safe and everything out of his hands, he figured he'd earned a few years of sleep. He was sure Aziraphale would understand.[1]

He was in a state of lazy, half-awakeness when his phone rang. He figured it was as good a time to rise as any, although truth be told he'd hoped for another month or two, and grudgingly pulled himself into a semi-upright position, fumbling for the ringing device on his nightstand. It was a reasonably modern phone when he'd last properly fallen asleep: a BlackBerry, just starting to go out of fashion. Crowley was very impressed with what humans had done to mobile phones. They'd taken a perfectly good, nearly unbreakable Nokia, and decided to add a bunch of glass and other highly breakable bits. Not to mention, the damn things were designed to fall apart every other year, forcing the owners to buy a new one! It was all in the name of progress, and it couldn’t have been more evil if Crowley had a hand in it himself.[2]

The only downside to mobile phones, as far as he could tell, was that they made answering machines all but obsolete. But that was progress for you. 

He answered it. He already knew who it was. The very first thing he'd done with his phone was to set up his few contacts with their own, individual ringtones. Real Life's "Send Me an Angel" felt ironically bitter and appropriate for how Crowley felt about Aziraphale.

"Hello?" he said, because the angel didn't need to know that Crowley had him saved to his contacts. 

The answer was concerning because it wasn't really an answer. Aziraphale's grasp of phones had never been especially good, but he understood at least enough to know that when you called someone, speaking was expected.[3] Instead, what Crowley heard across the figurative line was a lot of heavy breathing and a frankly concerning amount of whimpering. Considering angels had no need for breath, and that he didn't think he'd ever heard Aziraphale whimper in his exceedingly long life, Crowley was immediately on his guard. 

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Can you talk?"

"Hurts," Aziraphale whimpered again. "Didn't...didn't know who else to call."

"I'm coming over," Crowley said, and hung up.

He broke the speed limit getting to Aziraphale's flat.[4] He let himself in through the bookshop, ignoring the lock completely but checking to make sure it was still secure when he got inside. The angel was nowhere in sight, nor was there any sign of the struggle he'd expected. No broken furniture, no torn feathers, no trails of blood. He hoped it was a good sign, instead of an indication that he'd find all that upstairs. 

"Aziraphale?" he called out, just in case the angel was hidden behind something. "I'm here."

There was no answer.

Crowley ascended the stairs, rapping on the door to Aziraphale's flat for politeness's sake before he pushed it open and stepped inside. "Hello?"

What he discovered could not have been further from his expectations. He was prepared to find Aziraphale bloody and badly beaten. He was prepared to find the angel missing a limb or near discorperation. He'd even been prepared to find other angels - or possibly demons - in the flat, still fighting with Aziraphale, although he'd dearly hoped that was not the case, and was ready to fight them on his angel's behalf.

He had not been prepared to find Aziraphale naked, for several reasons.

For one thing, Crowley had never seen Aziraphale naked, at least anywhere outside his imagination. For another, Aziraphale was making an effort. This alone shocked Crowley, because to his knowledge the angel had never done so before (again, outside his imagination), but it was more than that. Aziraphale had always been rather fussy about his appearance, from his immaculate wings to his manicured hands, and he especially took pride in being distinctly male shaped, however effeminate or queer[5] he might be. Crowley had assumed, if the angel ever were to make an effort, his genitalia would correspond with what was generally assumed of men.

It was not. Aziraphale's crotch was distinctly non-phallic, and given its outward appearance, Crowley was fairly certain it was a vagina (although, with internal genitalia, it was difficult to tell). It was also leaking, and the liquid dripping down Aziraphale's thighs was not blood, as Crowley might have worried, but clear and slick and considerably more copious than vaginal fluid normally was.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the most unexpected and alarming thing about a naked Aziraphale was that he was lunging at Crowley, all but tackling him against the door, and scrabbling with both hands at the front of Crowley's trousers. 

Crowley wasn't making an effort at the moment, but in the shocked second between two blinks, the "bad" part of him wished he was.

Instead, he grabbed for Aziraphale's arms, holding tight and backing him away a bit. The angel was stammering something with a lot of "I'm sorrys" mixed in between whines and words like "please" and "need" and "hurts."

It was the last bit that snapped Crowley out of his guilt-tinged lustful thoughts. "Aziraphale," he said, voice loud and ringing to cut over the angel's words. Aziraphale settled, although he still squirmed in Crowley's grip, thighs clamped tight, a look of deep upset and pain on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and Crowley shushed him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gently as he could manage. 

"I don't know." Aziraphale gulped and shuddered. "I don't think so. I'm hot all over, and I feel...I feel…"

"Horny?" The dryness of Crowley's tone was tainted by his concern.

" _Empty_." 

Crowley blinked and glanced down. Aziraphale followed his gaze, and desperation crept into his voice. "I can't make it go away. I'm not even trying but I need..." He trailed off, and Crowley's stomach sank. He had read a fair bit of erotica in his time, both for personal application and professional curiosity. He'd watched plenty of it too, and the first minute or so usually shaped up something like this.

The good thing to do would probably have involved finding Aziraphale something he could satisfy himself with and leaving him to it, but Crowley was still a demon at heart, and so what he actually did was release the angel's arms and shrug off his suit jacket. Aziraphale's face lit up, and his hands once again darted for Crowley's belt, accompanied by another apology that sounded increasingly like he didn’t mean it. Crowley batted his hands away. "Bedroom, angel."

Aziraphale led the way. Crowley followed, shedding layers as he went.[6] 

Aziraphale's bedroom was, like the rest of his shop and flat, more bookshelf than room. There was, however, a small bed in the centre, and it looked like it hadn't been touched in years.  Crowley had barely stepped through the doorway before Aziraphale was on him again, wrapping an arm around his neck and burying his face against Crowley's shoulder, panting into the skin. With his other hand, he groped desperately at Crowley's crotch, and Crowley obliged him. Aziraphale groaned with relief as his fingers closed around hard, solid flesh, and Crowley groaned with him. Aziraphale gave him a pump, and then murmured pleadingly into Crowley's neck, "Could you...I mean..."

"Whatever you want," Crowley said, and meant it.

" _Bigger_ ," Aziraphale managed.

Manipulating the flesh was easy, although not as easy as it would have been if Aziraphale was not gripping it, and with a thought the member swelled in Aziraphale's hand. It had been average before, but as Crowley added a couple extra inches and a fair bit of girth, it started to resemble that of a porn star's.

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, because not touching him seemed wrong. "Better?" Aziraphale was shaking, he realized. He held him tighter. 

"A little bit more?" Aziraphale begged, and Crowley blinked but again obliged him. The end result was easily ten inches long and thicker than Crowley's wrist. He wasn't sure it was going to fit. Assuming, of course, that the angel expected Crowley to fuck him with it.

He resisted the undemonic urge to coo. "Is that good, angel?"

Aziraphale nodded. He was still shaking, but a little less so as he clung to Crowley. 

"Shall we move this to the bed, then?"

Aziraphale moved suddenly and like a man – well, angel - possessed. Crowley found himself whirled around and shoved, landing on his back on an abruptly much larger bed, the white, silk sheets already shoved aside as the angel straddled him. His curls were knocked askew and his eyes were wild. He was absolutely beautiful. 

Crowley moaned as Aziraphale fumbled for his cock again, but before he could bite out a warning Aziraphale was already sliding down it, a cry of pleasure escaping his throat as Crowley sank deep inside. For his part, Crowley was rather relieved he didn’t need to breathe, because he'd suddenly forgotten how. 

Aziraphale was tight, which was to be expected. He was also just as wet inside as the slick dripping down his legs had suggested. And, most extraordinarily, he took Crowley’s now-massive cock with ease. Crowley groaned as he bottomed out, entire length wrapped in Aziraphale's warm, welcoming cunt. It rippled around him as Aziraphale clenched and whined, and Crowley grabbed hold of his hips and gave a tentative thrust up.

The effect was immediate. Aziraphale gave an uncharacteristic howl of pleasure and bucked against him. " _Yes_ ," the angel hissed, and for a moment worry slid down Crowley's back like ice before Aziraphale's wings, still snowy white, popped out and spread, knocking several books off their shelves. Aziraphale ignored them, too busy working himself on Crowley's cock to care. 

Crowley planted his feet and helped, freeing his own wings and thrusting up every time the angel bounced, dragging delicious moans from Aziraphale's throat and little grunts from his own. 

It was so much better than he'd imagined. He'd wanked to thoughts of Aziraphale far more than was appropriate for a friend or an angel, but his fantasies had always involved the angel being timid, open to seduction but not driving it. Fucking Aziraphale like this, cock thick and throbbing inside Aziraphale's slick passage as the angel rode him, felt better than any of his dreams ever had. Possibly because this, unlike Crowley's dreams, was real.

Aziraphale's moans began to shift, moving from ones of satisfaction to ones of frustration. His strokes got longer, keeping more of Crowley inside him, grinding down like he was searching for something. Tears welled up in his eyes, and Crowley's worry returned full force. He stilled Aziraphale, who whimpered and let him, and sat up, cradling the angel close. 

"What's wrong, angel?"

"It’s not working." Aziraphale's voice was heart-breaking. His lip quivered. "I thought...but it's not..."

"Not what?"

"Not enough." Aziraphale looked so _guilty_ as he said it, like it was his fault Crowley wasn't pleasuring him right. For the first time, Crowley pressed a careful kiss to Aziraphale's lips, and the angel relaxed a bit against him.

"Tell me what you need," he whispered, "and I'll do it."

"Can we try the other way ‘round?" Aziraphale asked. "Maybe it'll be better." 

"Of course." 

Fuelled by what he typically imagined sex with the angel to be like, Crowley was fully prepared for what he thought Aziraphale meant - and although being fucked by the angel wasn't quite as appealing as being the one doing the fucking, he was far from opposed - so he was momentarily surprised when Aziraphale climbed out of his lap, choking back a whimper as Crowley's cock slipped free, and turned over onto his hands and knees. Oh. Oh, Crowley could absolutely do that.

He grinned. "Is that what you need, angel?" He slid into position behind Aziraphale, gripping his cock and rubbing it just inside Aziraphale’s folds. "You need me to mount you? Need a big, bad demon to fuck your cunt like a bitch? Press you into the mattress and pump you full?"

It occurred to him too late that Aziraphale might not like dirty talk, or might prefer a gentler version of it. But it didn’t matter, because the angel moaned and canted his hips back, trying to get Crowley's cock to catch on his opening and slide in. "Please " he begged. "Take me. Breed me."

Crowley slammed in and Aziraphale screamed. His wings flared, and Crowley dug his fingers into the feathers and used them for leverage. He grunted, balls smacking against Aziraphale with every slam of his hips. Aziraphale went pliant beneath him, moaning and begging for more, harder, _"yes, just like that, don't stop, please, darling, please."_  

If Heaven had been like this, Crowley never would have left. In the back of his mind, the part that wasn't overwhelmed by how excellent fucking Aziraphale felt, he was starting to get an inkling of what was going on. There’d been a particular kind of erotica that he’d read, one that even he would never have been able to dream up on his own, and Aziraphale was exhibiting nearly all the classic signs. It had been the phrase “breed me” that had really clued him in, and he bent low over the angel’s back, hips still pistoning in and out, and murmured in Aziraphale’s ear, “That’s it, isn’t it, angel? That’s why you’re so empty. You love my cock like this, thick and full and plugging you up, but there’s something you want even more, isn’t there?”

“ _Yes_ ,” moaned Aziraphale. “ _Please._ ”

Crowley shifted so he could angle his hips a bit better, shoving his cock even deeper into the angel. “You’re just like a bitch in heat, aren’t you? Slick and ready, not satisfied until you’ve got a nice, fat knot stuffed into you. You want me to pump you full of cum, angel? Want me to breed you up, knot you tight and fill you until you’ve got no choice but to get knocked up?”

“Knot me,” the angel begged. “Crowley, please.”

It was the first time Aziraphale had said his name during the proceedings, and it made Crowley bare his teeth in a feral grin. He raked his fingers through Aziraphale’s feathers the wrong way, knowing it would drive the angel just a little bit more wild, and with a thought, his cock was changing again. The base was swelling, and Crowley grunted as it began to catch on the edge of Aziraphale’s hole. Aziraphale panted and came to life beneath him, shoving his hips back properly. “Give it to me,” he pleaded. “Crowley, darling, _please_.”

Crowley shushed him. “I’ve got you, angel,” he purred. He was close, he could feel it. His balls were tight, drawn up to his body, and his knot grew bigger with each thrust. He could hardly pull it out, and it dragged along Aziraphale’s inner walls, drawing moans and cries from the angel’s lips. “Yessss,” he hissed, losing the threads of his control. “That’sss it, angel. Sssumbit. Let me knot that sssweet cunt of yoursss. Let me make you mine.”

“Yours,” Aziraphale agreed, his voice high and desperate. “Knot me, darling, make me yours.”

Crowley slammed in one last time, and the knot stuck. He moaned, low in his throat, and rutted his hips in, grinding the knot against the walls of Aziraphale’s channel. He was so close he could taste it, the pressure building up in his balls until he could scream from frustration. He needed to come almost as badly, he suspected, as his angel needed him too, but he couldn’t quite push himself over the edge.

He kept rutting, short and sharp pushes that fucked the knot against the inside of Aziraphale’s hole, and leaned low again. One hand wrapped itself around the back of Aziraphale’s neck, pushing him face-first into the sheets with a punishing grip. The other reached down and traced where they were joined, and then pushed in.

He couldn’t fit more than the fingertip, but the effect was instantaneous. Aziraphale gasped and came, and in doing so clenched down hard, his walls rippling where they held Crowley tight, and Crowley grunted and followed suit. Aziraphale let out a high, happy sound as Crowley’s cum pulsed into him in long, thick spurts, and he pushed back against him. Crowley released his neck and wrapped both his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him upright. It nudged him a little deeper, and Aziraphale settled mostly in his lap, his head lolling back against Crowley’s shoulder, a blissful expression etched across his face. Crowley was still coming.

He didn’t stop coming until his balls started to ache, and Aziraphale’s stomach was slightly distended from the sheer volume. He forced himself to stop, and even so Aziraphale let out a small sound of discontent, which Crowley shushed with kisses along his cheek and neck.

“Feeling better?” he asked when he thought Aziraphale had regained some of his senses.

Aziraphale shifted, as if turning to look at him, but hissed halfway through as the knot pulled at his hole. He fell back against Crowley’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounded much more coherent than before. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Crowley traced the line of Aziraphale’s neck with his nose, rubbing his cheek against the soft flesh. “I didn’t think breeding was a thing angels did. I’m fairly confident it wasn’t when I was still one.”

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. He sounded puzzled, and more than a little concerned. “We don’t. At least, I don’t think we do.”

It occurred to Crowley, as it had in the beginning, that perhaps this hadn’t been the best course of action. He swallowed. “You didn’t…I mean…”

Aziraphale glanced at him over his shoulder, and his expression softened. His hand found Crowley’s and held it. “Thank you for helping me. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did. I’m glad you came when I called.”

“Me too,” Crowley said. He hesitated, and then, to the back of the angel’s neck, admitted, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

“Which bit?”

“All of it.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “And more.”

“More what?”

Crowley got the feeling Aziraphale was teasing him, and it made him feel better about the whole thing. “More everything,” he said. “More kissing you. More holding your hand. More sex, if you’re interested.”

Aziraphale pressed a hand to his stomach, testing the give. “We may not have a choice.”

Crowley stretched them out, laying down on his side and spooning the angel, being mindful of both their wings. He pressed his hand over Aziraphale’s. “You always have a choice. I would never make you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Aziraphale agreed. “But whatever this is might.” He shuddered as Crowley’s knot began to deflate, and canted his hips back. “Would you mind…?”

“Not at all.” Crowley shifted to better keep himself inside, using as much power as he dared. His cock was still tingling a little, and he was far too sensitive to inflate the knot again.

“I want more too,” Aziraphale said after a minute or so. “I think I have for a while, but before the end times we were supposed to be enemies and all that, and we had been friends for a very long time. And afterwards it just seemed too late to do anything about it.”

“I know what you mean.”

They settled into the comfortable silence of two beings who have known each other for over six thousand years. Eventually, Aziraphale said, “What is it you’ve done to my bed? It takes up the whole room now.”

“I didn’t do it,” Crowley protested. “Must have been you. You did have a rather one-track mind for awhile there.”

“Fair enough.”

Some time later, Crowley pulled out. It made a messy, wet noise. Aziraphale reached between his legs and pressed two fingers inside himself, breath hitching as he probed. He withdrew them and wiped them on the sheets. “It still won’t go away.”

“Condolences,” Crowley said. He kept his own genitalia, just in case. “You know, I’d always thought, if you were to have anything there, it’d be a cock.”

“Me too,” Aziraphale said. He pressed the fingers in again, and moaned a little. Quite without his permission, Crowley’s cock stirred.

“Does it bother you?” Aziraphale asked.

“Should it?”

Aziraphale shrugged.

“Does it bother you?”

Aziraphale considered. “It’s not my first choice. But I like it well enough.” He crooked the fingers and moaned again. “Oh. Oh dear.”

“Keep that up, and I’m going to want back inside you whether you need it again or not,” Crowley warned.

“Oh, yes please.”

It was better this time. Slower, for one thing. They hardly moved; Crowley just pushed Aziraphale’s leg up a bit and slid his cock back into wet warmth. There was something extra satisfying in knowing that a good deal of that slick was his own cum, and it leaked out around his cock, making room as he pushed deeper into the angel and held himself there. When he finally did move, it was slow and easy and punctuated with breathy sighs from Aziraphale that formed words like “that’s lovely” and “darling” and, best of all, Crowley’s name.

“Do you want the knot again?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale nodded. Crowley obliged him, and came first this time, knotting himself into Aziraphale, and then bringing the angel off twice with his fingers for good measure.

Mostly, it was better because Aziraphale seemed to truly want it this time. Not to say he hadn’t wanted it before, as he assured Crowley again, but being fully in his own right mind made the act much more satisfactory. Crowley concurred. They fell asleep together, even though they didn’t need it, still joined.

Later, Crowley woke up. The bed was as he’d left it, except for the fact that Aziraphale was no longer in it. Crowley stretched, knocking several more books off the shelves with his wings, and then tucked them back in. He sat upright and looked around for the angel. Aziraphale wasn’t in the bedroom.

Still nude, Crowley wandered out into the hall. “Aziraphale?” He found him sitting at the table in his kitchenette, a mug of cocoa clutched between his hands, and fully dressed. The look on his face was enough to make Crowley miracle his own clothes back on too.

He touched the angel’s shoulder. “Aziraphale?

Aziraphale looked up, and started to cry.

Alarmed, Crowley nearly took a step backward, and then thought better of it. He knelt instead, moving his hand from Aziraphale’s shoulder to his knee. “I’m sorry,” he began, unsure how to continue. Aziraphale shook his head.

“It’s not you,” he hiccupped. “You were…you were wonderful.”

“Then what?” Crowley asked. “Talk to me, angel. Please.”

“I was contacted by the Metatron.”

Crowley bristled. “I though you didn’t talk to that lot anymore. After everything.”[7]

“I wasn’t,” Aziraphale said miserably. “But they insisted. Apparently, they know what’s wrong with me.”

Crowley resisted the urge to say something sappy like “there’s nothing wrong with you,” and tilted his head. “You mean the ‘woke-up-with-a-vagina-desperately-horny-and-needed-to-be-knotted-and-bred’ thing?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Apparently it was built into angels at our creation. A sort of safety measure, for after the apocalypse. War means fallen soldiers, which means that when Heaven won it would inevitably need to be repopulated. So someone decided that meant they’d put a sort of…reproductive delay into angels. Some would be for being bred and others would, well…do the breeding.” Aziraphale shuddered.

“Hang on,” Crowley said. “I was an angel. How come I haven’t gotten any of that going on?” Now that he was no longer making an effort, he was sexless once again. Given Aziraphale’s state, he suspected the angel was not.

“Turned off when you fell, I expect. Plenty of other things did, why not that?” Aziraphale hesitated. “They want me back in Heaven. To be bred.”

Crowley stiffened. “What the Hell for? It isn’t like the war happened. I doubt Heaven needs repopulating.”

“I don’t know. But I told them I wouldn’t.”

“You did?” Crowley blinked.

Aziraphale nodded. He looked properly miserable again. “It’s not going to go away, they told me. The heat will come back, and it will just get worse and worse until I’m bred.”

“Then we’ll just have to breed you, won’t we?” Crowley said, with a gentleness that surprised even him. “Assuming that’s alright with you?”

Aziraphale stared at him, eyes wide. “But…you’re a demon. I don’t even know if that’s possible.”

Crowley shrugged. “I was an angel once, wasn’t I? We can keep trying until we make it work. If you want me, that is.”

“I do,” Aziraphale said at once. He took Crowley’s hands in his and squeezed tight. “Do you want me?”

“More than anything.”

They never did manage it themselves. All the love in the universe couldn’t unravel the complicated strings of demon biology to make him angelic enough for that. But they did try, and when trying didn’t work they accepted that it probably never would, and had plenty of sex when Aziraphale needed it, but also went on dates and held hands and did other, nonsexual couple-y things when he didn’t, and soon enough Newt and Anathema had a little bundle of their own, which they named Agnes, and asked if Crowley and Aziraphale might consider being the godparents. Aziraphale’s brooding instincts kicked in, his sex drive shot down[8], and he doted on every small Pulsifer – and eventually Young – who came along like they were his own. And Crowley smiled, distinctly undemon-like, and loved his husband through it all.

 

[1] Aziraphale would understand, initially, and had even considered taking a brief nap himself, just to see what all the fuss was about. This would change shortly.

[2] He hadn't, but if Hell had still been handing out commendations for that sort of thing, he'd have absolutely claimed it was. So too, he expected, would Aziraphale, although for slightly different reasons.

[3] Crowley rather delighted in the idea of teaching Aziraphale about texting, or he would have done, had he not known he would undoubtedly be the recipient of innumerable novel-length texts full of outdated slang, assuming the angel understood the concept at all. 

[4] He always broke the speed limit, of course, when he wasn't driving below it to irritate the rest of the drivers on the road, but on this particular occasion it was with decidedly less evil intent. 

[5] With all meanings intended

[6] He could have disappeared them with a thought, but he’d always believed there was something seductive in stripping the normal way, and he decided he’d been right, even if the angel seemed too distracted to appreciate it.

[7] Neither of them had explicitly said they’d stopped speaking to their respective sides after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t, but there’d been something implied, Crowley thought, in the way their interactions had shifted after the fact. Crowley certainly wasn’t speaking to Hell.

[8] Although, to Crowley’s pleasure, and Aziraphale’s, not quite all the way

**Author's Note:**

> If you're just here for the smut, this stands alone. But if you, like me, are intrigued by the idea of these two hopeless idiots raising a family together, ignore that last paragraph and continue on to Omens of a Bright and Peculiar Future, where I explore exactly that in this same universe.


End file.
